


That's Not My Name

by orphan_account



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Chloe begins to show Max around her junkyard lair. Max accidentally touches a nerve when she jokingly references a historical figure to address Chloe.





	That's Not My Name

A freight train rolled by as the two young women walked briskly past the rusted cars, old signs, and other unrecognizable bits and pieces strewn about and stacked on each other.

"Is this a race?" complained Max as she hurried behind Chloe.

"Keep up," came the flat response.

"How many times are you going to get pissed at me this week?"

"That depends on you. And how well you do in this phase of the test." Chloe slowly spun around, arms outstretched, to indicate the junkyard around them. "Welcome to American Rust, my home away from Hell."

"Raw and rough. It suits you," Max observed.

Chloe suddenly piped up with a burst of enthusiasm, gesturing with the bottle of beer in her hand. "Max, do you know how awesome this is? I get my best friend back and she's also supersized?"

"We don't know for how long."

"Exactly why it's time to have fun."

The pair ambled over to another part of the junkyard as Chloe pulled something from her jacket pocket: a small handgun.

Max didn't quite know what to think. Nervously, she put her hand to her chest. "David might be a douche, but you _did_ steal his gun. Is...everybody armed in Arcadia Bay now?"

Practicing her aim at an old pickup truck topper, Chloe quipped, "Only the ones who shouldn't be. Like step-dildo. Until now."

"I'm not in the revolution yet... Che."

At this, Chloe's eyes suddenly narrowed. She put the gun away and spun herself around to face Max head-on, hands on hips. " _What_ did you just call me?"

"Uh... Che? You know, like, Che Guevara, the... famous Cuban revolutionary? I was trying to make a reference, a joke, like, to lighten the mood, what with you waving a _gun_ around and all."

Chloe sighed petulantly. "Yes, _Maxine_ , I know who the fuck Che Guevara is. My uncle has the fucking T-shirt."

"Chloe? What's gotten into you? Why...?"

"Max."

"What?"

Chloe looked away from Max, into the distance. "Do you know the real reason I was expelled from school? The absolute final straw?"

"Well... I figured, you know, the smoking, drinking, skipping class, and not turning in homework."

"I'm sure that would have gotten me kicked out eventually. But the reason it happened when it did is because I beat up a kid in my Creative Writing class."

"What? You're kidding."

"Nope. Kicked his ass. He was in the hospital for two days."

"But... Why?"

Chloe jerked her head to look back at Max, eyes blazing. "BECAUSE HE GOT EVERYBODY TO CALL ME _FUCKING_ ' _CHE_.'" Max swallowed and blinked at the intensity of Chloe's stare. Chloe closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and took a deep breath. "Look, Max, it all started with this one assignment. We were supposed to write short fiction starring each other as superheroes."

"That sounds... kind of lame."

"Uhhhh... Look who's talking, Super Max, Lord Of Time? But yeah, it was a huge part of our grade. Anyway, this kid Brandon, he overheard me talking with Steph Gingrich over lunch about New Year's resolutions. I accidentally said New Year's 'revolutions' and Steph busted out laughing and started calling me 'Che' - exactly like you did, a funny reference to 'revolutionary' Che Guevara, ha ha. Except... except this fucking kid, he thought that was some kind of real nickname of mine."

"Well, I mean, it does have a few letters in common with..."

"LET ME FINISH. So there were 9 of us in class, and we each had to write 8 short stories to publish on the Blackwell Creative Writing student site - one with each of our classmates playing the hero. Well sure enough, this dipshit finishes his story about ME first, because he had a crush on me or something. He didn't put any thought into the story, obviously; he just... vomited a bunch of words into his laptop. I mean, my God, he was so proud of this ridiculous word he invented - 'bluenette.' What is _wrong_ with people? Anyway he goes and PUBLISHES this turd online, before anybody else finishes their first story. Oh, and - and. Guess what all the other characters in that story call me, the fictional hero. Just guess."

"Uhhh..."

"Fucking 'Che,' Max. FUCKING _'CHE.'_ And then the OTHER kids in my class, when they looked up Brandon's story for ideas, THEY assumed that 'Che' was an actual nickname for me, and followed suit."

Max made a sympathetic face as best she could while holding back a laugh. "Oh no, Chloe..." Reaching in her bag, Max pulled out her instant camera. "Hang on. I need to capture the raw emotion of you getting so worked up."

"It's NOT FUNNY, Max! For real..." Chloe looked straight into the camera lens, as if addressing an audience directly. "If you are so... _goddamn_... careless and... and _ignorant_ , and you pay _so little_ attention to detail that you fuck up my fucking _name_ when I'm one of the _main characters_ in your story, then how the FUCK am I supposed to take ANYTHING you write seriously?"

"Wowsers, Chloe, I... You're getting more worked up than I was expecting. Maybe you should just calm-"

"Jesus Christ, those stories are STILL up on the Blackwell Creative Writing student archive. Anybody who reads them is going to think that I _actually_ go by the nickname 'Che!'" Chloe looked at the sky, pleading to some higher power. "They could still fix them. Some of those stories are actually really _good_ otherwise, you know? They could still log in as alumni and fix them. It's not too late." Half-crying, half-shouting, Chloe's voice began to crack. "Why the _fuck_ don't they FIX THAT SHIT? **THAT'S. NOT. MY. NAME.** "

Max was slowly backing away from Chloe, who seemed to be lost in her own world of self-pity, righteous indignation, and helpless rage. _Looks like I_ really _touched a nerve there._ She reached out her hand and pulled at the fabric of time...

 

"...David might be a douche, but you _did_ steal his gun. Is...everybody armed in Arcadia Bay now?"

Practicing her aim at an old pickup truck topper, Chloe quipped, "Only the ones who shouldn't be. Like step-dildo. Until now."

"I'm not in the revolution yet... Uhhhh... Mao Tse-Tung."

"You _are_ the revolution, Max. So we should figure out how to best use and abuse your power with a test."

 _Whew,_ thought Max. _I really dodged a bullet there. So to speak._


End file.
